Second Glance
by ZafiraMente
Summary: Clint and Natasha continue their adventures. Issues including Natasha's past, Clint's present and their future are faced. Sequel to First Blush. Clintasha. MCU compliant.
1. Chapter 1

AN: As always when I find things taking turns in my stories, I debate whether to continue in the same story, or to break off with something else. I decided for this one to break off. First Blush is really the story of them becoming partners. This is moving into a different phase. If I can keep it going, it will be a trilogy I think, but I'm not putting my eggs all in that basket.

Same rules apply for this story as the last: I will leave it marked as complete, and will have it so that any chapter ending could be a semi-decent end to the story, so if something happens or I lose my muse, it's not an unfinished work. Reviews are very much appreciated.

I of course do not own anything to do with this story besides the order in which the words were put on paper.

* * *

Natasha Romanoff was waltzing around a grand ballroom at a fundraiser in Madrid. While she had the look of every other guest: smiling, slightly drunk, she was far different. For one, she doubted that even the bodyguards were packing as much weaponry as she had managed to hide on her person. It was something she loved about balls: the gowns were incredibly effective camouflage. Secondly, she was there on a mission to try and get information from one of the other guests.

Her target had a digital assistant, and in one of the folds of her dress, she had a device to steal its information wirelessly. It needed to be close to the device, very close. That's where she came in. Her partner Clint Barton was providing cover and working a secondary mission, if possible. He was watching to see who a particular man was talking to; the government was concerned about where his money was going and they were investigating every angle. Normally, she would still have been point on that, but her primary mission was deemed too important to not split her focus. Hawkeye could watch the whole room while she worked the man to get close enough to steal the information on his device. Overall, a pretty hum-drum mission.

Natasha had been working her way through the room to her mark, subtly moving closer so she could join his circle unobtrusively, which could be harder than it sounded when the target had paranoid tendencies and well-trained security. She managed to get into his circle of friends by seducing one of the other young men who had been seen earlier with her mark. All was going smoothly, on time and as expected.

" _Do you get tired of being the honeypot?"_ The archer spoke softly in her ear as she executed the careful social dance of the party. She quirked her eyebrows just slightly to communicate a non-committal feeling.

"I was born to be here." She laughed as she spoke to someone and they clinked their glasses together in a toast. While her comments fit the situation, they both knew it was elaboration on her answer.

Hawkeye's voice was regretful. _"No, you weren't. Not like this. I'm sorry."_ It was hard for him sometimes on missions, watching her put her body out as bait for whatever lowlife they were chasing down. Females in the spy business unfortunately got placed in that position more often than he was comfortable with, especially with Natasha. Seeing her act, he could almost imagine a world where she would have been born into this sort of life, and not had to be used by everyone, himself included.

Natasha knew he carried guilt for bringing her into SHIELD and that sometimes he thought it wasn't much different than her previous life. She had more control over her jobs though, and the way she used her body was just a facile tool, something she had grown up thinking was normal. So, she shook her head just slightly, with the pretense of moving hair out of her eyes. He was protective of her, not physically so much since he knew just how well she could fight, but emotionally and psychologically. With all his scars, she supposed he maybe thought if he could heal someone else's, it would get better.

As she danced, she feigned a misstep and a twist in her ankle, the gentleman next to her immediately concerned. "I'm fine. Please don't fuss," she said warmly to the man in front of her and on the other side of her comm. With his concern, he squired her to the arrangement of seating that was in the inner circle for her target.

Hawkeye didn't respond to her again, and she sighed. That man had an overdeveloped sense of guilt and self-loathing at times. He was incredibly cocky at times, but the wounds that were under the bravado had never fully healed. Natasha made the effort to push aside her current thought process so she could focus on the job at hand.

She was sitting next to her mark, sipping champagne and dutifully laughing at the sexist jokes the man told. She figured with the next song, she would angle for a dance, and that would give her the proximity and time she needed to copy his data. It was imperative though that he have no clue that she had done anything, because if he knew his security was breached, the data would be useless. So she was patient and played a much slower game than usual.

Her blood turned to ice in her veins though, just as the she was being invited to dance. She saw someone from the corner of her eye and she had to assume she had been spotted too. It was a Russian agent, one who knew her well enough that he might recognize her, despite the dark brown hair she currently wore.

"Oh dear, I have a run in my stocking." She heard a muttered expletive in her ear as Hawkeye acknowledged her phrase. She hated saying it: the scrub command that she and Hawkeye used on missions like this. It was innocuous enough to not sound out of place, and would communicate clearly to her partner that things had gone south. The man she saw was affiliated with the Red Room and she could not chance a confrontation in this room, which ruin the mission and take away any hope she had for completing it in the future. Plus, she had no way of knowing how much support he had. She and Hawkeye had only been planning on information gathering and didn't have enough tactical support if it went south. "Would you excuse me, I need to run to the powder room to fix it."

They tried to keep off the comms as much as possible from this point on, to lessen the chances of the other getting captured. Theoretically, it also meant that they should scramble individually, but they had tended to ignore that particular dictate of protocol. You didn't leave your partner out there, exposed, if you could at all help it. Each of them would make the other swear to try and uphold the 'every agent for themselves' policy, but when it came down to it, neither would leave the other.

She stood up gracefully, and walked quickly but casually toward the restrooms, which were thankfully in the same area as the exit. She found ways to try and keep her face away from the enemy agent, while still trying to track his movements.

As she slipped out the door, she felt a bullet graze her upper arm silently. No distant crack from the firing weapon was forthcoming, making it difficult to narrow down exactly where the sniper was. She ducked behind a Grecian column, trying to move away from the civilians. No other shots came.

The fact that there was a sniper at all worried her; typically Hawkeye would have taken care of such things, or at least warned her. "Hawkeye, I have a hostile out here." Her voice was soft and her lips barely moved. Silence greeted her. Dread rose in her mind. She kicked off her heels and starting moving towards his position, watching for other snipers or hostile forces.

When she arrived in the building, she ripped off the excess tulle from the dress to make it easier to move, and began clearing the rooms on her way to his position.

It seemed to be forever until she reached the roof. Her eyes scanned for anything out of place. She saw a pair of boots, face down, behind one of the cooling towers and the sense of dread rose to critical levels. She didn't run headlong to his position; she couldn't help if she went down too.

She carefully made her way towards the cooling tower, on guard for any other combatants. When she got close enough to see the owner of the boots more closely, a wave of relief hit: they weren't attached to an archer. The man had been shot neatly between the eyes, telling her that most likely her partner had done the deed. She ventured a soft call to him.

Still silence. Now she quickened her pace, her breath getting painfully short suddenly. She found him where he had made his nest, and the scene terrified her. He wasn't conscious, and there was an alarming amount of blood coming from his right leg and pooled all around him. He clearly had been trying to get a tourniquet around his thigh, but passed out before he could get it tight. At least she hoped it was just not tight enough and that was why the blood was now just slowly dribbling out.

She dove down to his side, the tourniquet now too slippery to handle. She ripped open the pants leg, grabbed the throwing knife that had made the wound and enlarged the cut in his leg enough to get her fingers in while she voice dialed HQ.

"Agent down, I need emergency air evac at my coordinates. We're on a roof and there is enough room to land." She tried to keep her voice calm and professional as her fingers dug into the flesh of her partner, seeking the artery that was cut and killing him. "Bring blood. Lots of it." She didn't listen to the replies, having found what she was looking for. Her fingers manually pinched the artery closed at the top, then she went in with the other hand to get the other half.

Clint actually stirred with the painful digging of her fingers. He opened his eyes to half mast, the faintest twitch of his lips being the most he could manage for a smile.

"Don't smile at me, asshole. You were supposed to scrub, not hang around getting stabbed." She kept her fingers closely pinched on his arteries, praying to a god she didn't believe in that the chopper was nearby. "I'm going to kill you if you die. You can NOT die and leave me."

There was a faint rumble in his chest as he tried to speak but couldn't manage it. His eyes tried to communicate everything he wanted to say to her, though he knew that even if he could speak, he wouldn't be able to say enough. He tried to tell her that he was sorry. That she would make it through, even if he didn't. That if these were going to be his last moments, he was glad that she was there.

She refused to acknowledge the possibility of his death, even though the pulse she felt against her fingers was disturbingly weak. She continued to swear at him and threaten him if he dared leave her. Her last threat, the truest and most frightening to Clint coming toward the end: "I won't go on without you." It was a desperate whisper with tears in her eyes.

Finally, she heard the chopper approaching. His pulse was still there, even though he was barely breathing and she had seen polar bears with more color. When it landed and the medic ran over, trying to push her out of the way so he could evaluate the fallen agent, she hissed angrily. "I'm holding his femoral artery closed. Get a line and board to get him loaded."

The medic paled himself and ran off to grab supplies and another person. They got him loaded and blood started with them pushing it in, as she stayed by his side, no longer with feeling in her fingers, just frozen in place, they were clamped so tight. They only had brought four units of blood, and she angrily directed them to tap her own vein to directly transfuse when they ran out. They tried to say no, but with the threats she brought against them, they were more afraid of what she would do to them if the patient died.

It couldn't infuse as fast from her, but it kept blood flowing until they got to the hospital. When Barton was unloaded and the doctors were there to take him back to surgery to repair his artery, it was touch and go whether she would be willing to let go to allow them to clamp it. Finally, they convinced Natasha that they could take it from there and that he was out of immediate danger.

She let go and backed away as they rushed him into the OR. She was covered in his blood, her fingers stiff from holding in one position so tightly for so long. It wasn't as long as it seemed before someone came out to tell her that they were able to make the repair, he was going to be ok. They offered her a set of scrubs to change into, out of the ruined remains of the ball gown that had started the night with her.

Breathing came easier when they said he would make it. She took the clothes but delayed changing until she was able to slip back to recovery and see for herself that he was stable. Once she saw him and was satisfied that he was still out of it, but seemed to be out of immediate danger, she changed, also taking a quick shower to get the worst of the blood off her. She didn't dare tarry for long though, wanting to be near him when he woke.

She sat down next to his bed, lacing her fingers in his, awaiting his awakening. The doctor came by to give her an update, saying that her impromptu cut-down would possibly take longer to heal than the blood loss, but that it was the right thing to do. She nodded absently. Of course she had been trained for situations like this. Just not with the person bleeding to death being someone so important to her.

* * *

When Clint Barton awoke from his anesthesia there was, as always for him, a moment of panic as he tried to figure out what happened. Natasha was sleeping in a chair next to his bed, with her head leaning forward to rest on the bed, her hand intertwined with his. With his movement, she woke too, quickly grabbing his other hand and leaning over his body to prevent him from pulling out his breathing tube or any of the other hardware attached to him until she was sure he was ok. He didn't get nearly as panicked as she did in medical situations, but he still was prone to irrational behavior.

With her hands and body restraining him, she whispered gently, "You're in Madrid, with Natasha, safe. You're injured but ok." Her whispers to him were reminiscent of his reassurances to her those first weeks in Poland, as she dealt with her nightmares. She felt his body relax under hers and sat up more to release him, since he was seeming in control.

He looked down quickly, anxiously, trying to signal her to relieve him of the breathing tube. "¿ _Hay alguien que pueda sacar el tubo por favor_?" She called over to the nurse politely, trying to not be too obnoxious to the military hospital staff, but if Hawkeye wanted the tube out, it was going to come out, one way or another.

" _Vale no_ _, acaba de salir de cirugía_ _,_ " the nurse replied, astounded that she would even ask to get the tube out; he had just finished having surgery.

Natasha looked down at Clint, who was clearly still drowsy but demanding to get the tube out with his eyes. She gave him a little smile and whispered, "One, two, three!" Clint obliged her cue with a good cough as she pulled his tube herself.

The alarms sounded on the ventilator, and Natasha quickly silenced them, though not before the horrified nurse saw what she did. The nurse hit the code button and called for security as the staff tried to approach Clint's bedside. Natasha took a defensive stance, and just as she was afraid she would have to come to blows with security, Phil Coulson ran in, yelling for the nurses and security to stand down. Dealing with their quirks was one thing, the paperwork to explain why Natasha had killed a large portion of the staff was another.

"I tried asking nicely for them to take out his breathing tube." Her tone was self-righteous to Phil.

"I heard her, she did," Clint croaked helpfully. "If she hadn't done it, I would have."

Phil sighed, explaining in Spanish that his idiotic agents had PTSD and he apologized for their behavior. He turned to the two of them, looking at Natasha who was wearing scrubs with hospital slippers, still with her partner's blood in her hair and just barely not out of her mind with worry for her partner, and Clint who was still pale even after the massive transfusions he had received and clearly trying to not panic himself at being in a hospital bed and drugged. Any anger he may have felt drained away. "Are you both ok?"

Clint nodded his head, while Natasha hesitated. They exchanged terse glances and then both nodded to their handler. The fact that Natasha was willing to hint something was wrong and Clint was trying to hide it spoke volumes to Phil. "We'll get you out of here and on the way back in ten minutes."

* * *

The flight back to the United States was uneventful and despite something that came very close to whining from Barton, he was readmitted initially to SHIELD medical. At least the staff there were accustomed to treating patients that had experienced torture and had major issues with being in a vulnerable position.

After his preliminary exam, his doctor was actually willing to allow him to stay in his own quarters on base, provided he kept the IV in. A nurse would come by every 6 hours to change fluids and give him antibiotics, allowing him to stay in a more familiar setting. He quickly agreed, though Natasha amended that they would be at her quarters so she could watch him.

Once they got him settled into her (their) bed, Natasha's frayed nerves finally started calming. He was back where he should be and if she ignored the IV, it was almost like everything was normal…except they both knew it wasn't.

Natasha laid on her side, slightly curled, watching him breathe easily. In and out, just like it should, no agonizing pauses, no struggles. It made her feel calm, watching that.

"You know it's creepy when you watch me sleep." Clint gave no other clue he was awake, besides talking.

"You do it all the time, creeper." Natasha smiled fondly. After a beat she continued speaking, though much more quietly, "You scared the shit out of me, Hawkeye."

Clint opened his eyes to meet hers. "I scared myself pretty badly too. Who would have thought, of all things, that a lucky knife throw would be the thing that almost got me." Despite the small attempt at humor, his eyes communicated to her how seriously he took this incident.

Natasha nodded, relieved that he acknowledged how close he came to dying. No one in their line of work could function if they feared death too much, but a dose of fear on occasion was important to keep you grounded. "What should we do while we're out?" The seriousness noted, she could now move on, and also let him know that he wasn't going to be sidelined by himself.

Clint exhaled, a pained expression on his face as realization dawned. "Shit. I was supposed to go home after our mission." He had forgotten about that until now. He supposed it was telling that on the edge of death, it wasn't his wife that he wanted with him.

"It's alright," she said quietly. She understood the position that he was in, at least on an intellectual level.

He took her hand and squeezed it in apology. He wanted to stay here with her too. They sat in silence as he dozed, until Natasha's phone vibrated.

"Coulson." Natasha frowned as she looked at the caller ID before answering, bringing Clint out of his drowsy state. "I'm on medical, Coulson." Technically of course, she wasn't. But she had no intention of going out while Clint was sidelined. If she wasn't around, he might talk his way back into active duty before he should.

The frown deepened into concern as she swore colorfully in Russian. "Does he have leads?" A pause as she listened to the response on the other end of the line. "Yeah, I have places. How long?" Another pause before she finished with "Fine" and hung up the phone.

"What's going on?" Her partner demanded as Natasha stood up and grabbed her "go bag" and some other minor things she would want.

"The reason I had to scrub the mission was because I saw someone from the Red Room. Apparently he saw me too, and so some people are looking for me."

"I'm going with you. You can't go after them alone." He started getting up and moved to remove his IV. Natasha quickly though returned to his side and stayed his hands.

"For one, no matter what, you have to recover. Secondly, I'm not going after him, yet." She sat back down.

The archer huffed in disbelief. "Liar."

She gave him a warning look. "I'm not lying. I…" Her brow furrowed as she thought. "I know what they're like. And what they're capable of. We were lucky in Madrid, and you can't go up against them without research, plans and backup." She gently touched the back of her hand to his cheek with a smile. "And I wouldn't dream of going in without you."

"I'm going to lay low for a while, figure out how to get rid of the problem and do it well, with as little risk as possible. I will _**not**_ be put into their custody again, for any reason." Now Clint could see the fear she still carried about the people who raised her. No matter how much she would deny or hide it, they scared her.

He still looked dubious. "And being on base isn't low enough?" Sometimes fear led to poor decision-making.

Her hand flexed into a fist. "Fury thinks there might be an information breech. He and Coulson are advising me to go to one of my safe-houses that SHIELD knows nothing about." The idea that either someone had hacked into their computer system, or worse that an agent was able to be bought to betray her was troubling. It was another issue she would have to see to personally, no matter what Fury or Coulson said. But she wouldn't start murdering SHIELD agents until she was sure she had the mole, if there was one.

Clint's face darkened at the thought of a traitor in their midst. "I can still go with you. You need another set of eyes to watch your back. And I can also help with the research."

She shook her head. "No, go home to your family, if you think you can get there safely. You should probably lie low too," Natasha admitted unhappily. "If they know I have a partner, that's who they'll go after if they can't find me."

"We need to stay together. I'm not in a great position right now to be fighting off Russian assassins, and I can help you." His voice was firm, meeting her eyes to communicate the truth in his words.

"Damn it, Hawkeye. I'm trying to keep you out of harm's way. You know you will be safe there, and you can heal until I've figured this out." Frustration and anger with the situation made her whole body tense.

He set his chin stubbornly, "I don't care about being safe, I care about you."

It pained her to take the next step, knowing it was a low blow but needing to keep him safe at all costs. "Are you going to tell your _wife_ that?" She kept her face a mask, but hated herself for playing that card with him, and for the pain and shame he showed on his face.

"Fine. I'll stay here until I'm able to get there." He turned his face away from her.

"You need to go _now_." She tried to be more gentle in her words, but she couldn't leave while he was wounded and unprotected and she needed him to understand that.

Clint turned back to her, anger on his face. He hated this argument, and he hated that he was a liability to her, that he was a liability to himself. "Well, I can't leave now. I'd rather take my chances with being on base than trying to manage with a fucked up leg with an arterial graft that could rupture and kill me if I try to use it too much before it's healed."

Natasha's shoulders sunk unhappily. "I'm sorry." She knew that being hurt was killing him psychologically, and that he was right to be worried about his ability to get home safely and securely with what he was dealing with. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I can't leave you alone to deal with these people, not while you're injured. I would be beyond forgiveness if something happened to you."

"Then if you want to insist on me leaving, you can take me there." Their eyes met and he saw the shock in hers: he was willing to tell her where he hid his family.

Stupefied at the amount of trust that he was willing to give her, she nodded mutely, and began gathering supplies for the trip.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: So, in a traditional storytelling arc, act ii is when things are all broken and at their worst. Apparently I'm going conventional with this story. I'm still trying to keep it self-contained just in case, but I have a better idea as I go along, where exactly everything is leading.

Still own nothing. I'm sure my ideas aren't even that creative. But they do appreciate reviews

* * *

This was arguably one of the most awkward situations Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow, had ever been in. She was helping settle her partner, best friend and undefinable other half otherwise known as Clint Barton, into the guest bedroom at his own farmhouse. Where he lived. With his wife. And children. She had already brought in a large supply of medical items, including the IV antibiotics that he would need for the next week, painkillers, whether he wanted them or not, and supplies to change the dressing on his leg from where it had recently recovered from having its artery severed and then a Russian assassin digging her fingers into it to try and staunch the bleeding.

"I'm fine, just stop." He glared at Natasha who had just finished explaining to Laura just how important it was that Clint rests for at least one week and receives all the IV antibiotics she brought. Laura had looked distinctly alarmed at the idea of what would happen if his graft failed.

"Shut up, Clint. I wouldn't have to do it if I knew I could trust you about this." Natasha glared right back at her partner, pulling up some morphine to make him more compliant. Before he could object, she injected him with a good-sized dose.

"What did you just do?" Laura looked alarmed as Clint's eyes started drooping and he slurred something about killing Natasha.

"Drugged him so I can talk to you for a few without him getting upset." Natasha sat down on the bed, motioning for Laura to sit somewhere as well.

"We can go out to the living room. The kids are upstairs…" Laura wasn't stupid, she knew that this was his partner, the one he was probably in love with.

Natasha shook her head slightly. "No, we have to stay here. You see, I'd keep him doped up the whole time if I thought that would keep him still, but there is a distinct possibility with the level of morphine I just gave him, that he could stop breathing." She was nonchalant about the potentially lethal dose of morphine she administered, which did little to calm Laura.

Laura's eyes went immediately to Clint's chest, which was still rising and falling slowly. She looked back at Natasha, very overwhelmed with what had just been brought home.

"How careful are you guys about this place?" Natasha went back to the topic at hand, making sure that Clint would be safe here, unattended.

"Very. I don't know exactly what he does, but I know the importance of our secrecy. I have a nanny, who Clint vetted but who does not know anything specific about the family except my husband travels for work."

"Alright. Do you have a safe room?" Natasha was sure Clint had one on the property, but it was just as important that Laura know about it and be able to get there.

Laura nodded. "Yes. It's got supplies stocked too. What's going on?"

"Long story short, we work together, a former employer of mine is on the warpath regarding me and isn't above hurting people I work with to draw me out." Natasha carefully skirted around the more delicate aspects of the situation.

"What are the chances of them finding us here?"

Natasha paused for a moment, looking at the sleeping form of her partner. "Low. Very low, if he did everything right, and I think he probably did."

"Why are you leaving then?" Laura was thinking less about the interpersonal aspects of the situation, and more focusing on making sure the kids were protected, since Clint was apparently mostly out of commission.

The red head startled a little at the question. "I didn't want to impose on his family life." Or she couldn't stand to see his family life. One of the two things. Plus she figured Laura wouldn't want her anywhere near her family.

Laura bit the inside of her lip, looking at Clint, the supplies, and the back to Natasha. "But I think he'd rather you be here." The tone of voice told Nat that her partner's wife was aware on some level of the closeness between the partners.

Natasha respected the woman for being up front with it, honestly. "Well, he's an idiot, which I'm sure is no surprise to you."

Laura smirked and gave a half nod in response. "I can agree. But." The brunette struggled for a moment. "Stay. I don't know how to handle this." She motioned to the medical equipment, but it was understood that she also meant the pressure of a potential attack. And maybe even just dealing with Clint while he was injured like this. "I trust that he has done things right here, but if something goes sideways, I can't help him like you do."

Curious now, Natasha examined the woman in front of her again. She was pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way. She was definitely nervous and scared, which was understandable considering the situation. But there was also a strength to her that made her able to face the woman her husband was partnered with, not only without looking away, but without being angry.

Logically, it would be better if she stayed with Clint. She would worry about him if she were somewhere else, and she knew that he was far more likely to do something stupid if she were gone, especially if he thought she was in trouble. She also knew that he would have the equipment and connections she would need for research.

"Alright. I'll stay." Natasha was uneasy about the situation, but it was the best solution for the moment. By the time Clint was better, he might be up for helping her take a hunting trip.

* * *

"If you ever drug me like that again," Clint began threateningly, several hours later, still blurry-eyed from the narcotics.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You'll do what, bleed on me?" She let the front two legs of the chair she had been tipped back in settle onto the floor. Coming over to sit on his bed, she looked more apologetic. "I really am sorry. I just didn't think I had enough time to cover what I needed to with Laura, and deal with your interjections. And I was afraid you'd try and stop me when I left."

Clint frowned as realization dawned. "But you're still here."

"Yeah, well, your wife is persuasive." Clint looked at her in response, almost apologetically, communicating that clearly Laura and Nat shared some traits. Natasha tried to prevent the smirk that came to her face in response, mostly successfully.

"Thank you, Nat." His hand went over hers, his voice sincere.

She pulled her hand away from his, standing back up. "Well, she was right that it was more logical for me to stay with you, just in case. And I figured you'd have the networking infrastructure I'd need, security-wise." Her tone and demeanor slipped back into her office persona.

He nodded, understanding this was uncomfortable for her. "Alright. You let me know what you need, and I'll get it for you." A sharp look from the Russian caused him to quickly amend the statement. "I'll tell you where you can get it."

"Good. Now, get some rest. If you can manage to let yourself heal without fucking it up more, then you can help me when it comes time to finish this." A dark smile appeared on her face for the potential to give back some pain to the monsters who raised her. Clint was slightly uneasy at the gleam in her eyes, but happy that she planned to include him.

* * *

"Who are you?" A smallish male child demanded as Natasha emerged from the guest bedroom that housed her partner.

The deadly assassin arched her brow delicately and shot back, "Who are you?" They hadn't discussed yet what they were going to tell the kids about any of this.

"You're in _my_ house!" he responded indignantly, his arms crossed.

Before they could come to blows, Laura heard the talking and scolded the boy. "Cooper, you're supposed to be doing your homework."

"What happened to Heidi?" Cooper seemed angry at his mother.

Realization dawned on Laura's face; the boy thought Nat was a new nanny. "Nothing happened to Heidi. She's coming back in two days. This is Natasha, she works with your Dad."

Now the boy's eyes widened. "Is Dad here?" He looked around anxiously.

"Yes, sweetheart. He's resting right now, which is why I didn't come and get you two. He got hurt at work and Natasha was nice enough to get him back here so he could get better."

"Hurt how?" Now Cooper looked alarmed.

"Just hurt his leg. He just needs some rest and medicine for a week or so, then he'll be good as new." Laura spoke with a soothing voice and Natasha couldn't help but just stare at the interaction between mother and child.

They were things so foreign to her. She had no mother to calm her fears and tell her it would all be ok, and she would never have a child of her own to soothe and comfort. It made her chest feel vaguely tight.

The conversation between mother and son had continued as Natasha was lost in her own world until she realized they were both looking at her. "Hello. Nice to meet you." Nat wasn't very comfortable with children like this. She hadn't had normal interactions with other children even growing up; the other girls she had been with were really just targets in the end. Interacting with a pre-teenaged boy was a new skill.

Cooper looked at her for a moment, not sure what to make of her awkward attempt at conversation. Instead he bolted for the stairs. "Lila! Dad's home!" His voice faded to a muffled timbre as he disappeared. Shortly thereafter though, he reappeared, with a younger girl in tow.

"Daddy!" Lila looked around for her father, eyes falling on Natasha instead, looking to Cooper for explanation.

Laura explained to the girl that her father was indeed home, but resting and Miss Natasha would be staying with them for a little while. Natasha decided to try and improve her interaction and this time crouched down to the little girl's level. "Hi. You must be Lila. You dad has told me about you." It seemed like a safe thing to say and it was technically true, although he hadn't said much beyond the fact that she existed.

Lila nodded to the redhead, but was clearly more interested in finding her father. "I'm in here, Pumpkin." Clint called from the spare room.

Laura quickly cut them off before they could barrel into the room. "It's really important that you don't accidentally hurt Daddy's leg, ok?" Cooper grumbled but let his mother lead him and his sister into the guest room where Hawkeye was nested. Nat slipped in silently, standing guard at the foot of the bed.

She continued to monitor how exactly the family thing worked for Clint. She noted that he seemed to have slipped into one of his undercover personas, a person who had never murdered for money or country, the affable father figure of the fifties perhaps.

Natasha didn't interfere unless one of the children got too rambunctious around his leg, then she would carefully move them further away. Laura finally decided that they should give Clint a break asking Lila if she wanted to show Miss Natasha her room.

The gesture was surprising, that Laura would allow her near the kids so easily. Though when she thought about it more, she realized that Laura had no clue who she really was or what she was capable of.

It was a strange feeling: being herself, but not being feared. And somewhat amusingly, she realized that she had switched roles with Clint: now he was portraying a character and she was herself, without anyone running in fear. Natasha allowed the child to lead her up the stairs to show off her princess room.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: So this took so long to come out because not only did I have a couple different versions of this written, I also ended up with another version of the next chapter written and that got totally trashed by the changes I've made. I've been in a constant war with my brain about some of the details of the break between them and the rekindling between Clint and Laura, but I know where things are supposed to fall at different times in the arc. Hopefully other authors deal with this sort of indecision too.

So, without further ado, I'm publishing this version of it for better or worse to commit it to my "canon" so I can move on Thanks for the patience, Constant Readers.

* * *

After the kids went to sleep, Laura offered Natasha a glass of wine, which she accepted. It was like a wound for both women: it hurt but they couldn't leave it alone without picking at it.

"How bad was it, really?" Laura knew Clint did some sort of risky work with the military, but he had never let her see him injured beyond mild bruises before.

"Bad." Natasha sipped her wine as she debated just how much to tell Laura. "It was very close." Natasha shivered as a flashback played through her mind. Seeing him lying in so much blood, desperately fishing for the arteries to buy enough time for evac, and it was all her fault. He brought her in, it was her history that blew the mission and he was trying to cover her.

Lost in the images, she startled when Laura laid a hand on her arm. Clint was the only person off-duty that dared to touch her casually when they were at SHIELD. "Thank you for bringing him home." Laura seemed sincere in her gratitude. She stood as she finished her glass. "There are towels in the attached bathroom, if you want to shower before you go to bed." Laura motioned vaguely to the guest room.

"I wouldn't want to disturb you, I can wait." Natasha was confused. Laura wasn't being unpleasant with her, even though she had the right to be. It seemed that not only Clint was intent to challenge her expectations of behavior. Everything in the Red Room was about competition between the girls. When she was working a job, it was usually like that too. Hell, even at SHIELD, most women treated her as a rival.

"I'll be upstairs." Laura gave Natasha a half-hearted smile. "Clint told me about you."

"We aren't..." Natasha suddenly felt this was important to clarify, and was surprised at the fact she was stumbling over her words. "Clint has never..." She shook her head. Almost against her will, she realized that she liked Laura. She was a good person, and Clint deserved that.

Laura sat back down with a sigh. "I know. But..." Laura also struggled with how exactly to phrase things. "I met Clint was I was thirteen, you know. I did trapeze at the circus." Natasha nodded, aware of this part of the story. "I don't know who he is at all." Laura seemed almost relieved to admit it. "So much of his life is shut off to me. And when you marry at sixteen...I doubt he knows who I am either."

"You're a good person." Natasha was sincere in her words. "So is he. And this is an amazing life you have here." She looked around at the cozy farmhouse, hidden away from violence and death.

"So are you, I'm sure. Clint wouldn't...feel the way he does if you weren't." Just from the single day with Natasha, Laura had a good feeling about her.

The assassin laughed bitterly. "Not quite, I think he just wants to save me."

Laura laughed, though hers was more genuine. "He does like fixing things. But I think it goes beyond that. You are a part of his life in a way that I could never be."

"So are you," Natasha countered.

"You could though." Laura nodded to the home. "Anyone can do this."

Natasha shook her head, a hint of pain in her voice. "No. I never could."

"You'll retire some day, I'm sure." Laura was little more hesitant, reading Nat's body language.

Natasha cleared her throat, chuckling slightly. "Uh no. I don't believe in retirement plans. I prefer the blazes of glory."

Laura nodded, putting together all the different pieces of the woman in front of her that she had been given. "I'm sorry." It was the best she could do, understanding perhaps a little more what was going through Clint's head.

"I have a lot to atone for." Natasha finished her own wine. She added her relationship with Clint to the list. She could no longer lie to herself that it was completely platonic or harmless. Here was a woman who was being harmed by it, a woman who clearly did not deserve it.

Laura seemed to read some of that on Natasha's face. She again reached over to place a comforting hand on the other woman's arm. "Not this though. I don't know how exactly to handle this, but don't add it to your burden. If you do, then I'll have a bigger one to carry myself."

She stood up again, going to the stairs for bed. Her emotions were very close to the surface and she was exhausted. She needed to sleep and process. Half way up the stairs, she paused to look down at her would-be rival. "He's been better, happier, since he started working with you." And with that thought, Laura fled to her room, leaving a very overwhelmed Russian assassin in her wake.

* * *

Natasha re-entered Clint's room. He was dozing, but awoke when she walked in. She bustled about, doing the medical things she needed to do for the evening, giving IV antibiotics, making sure the dressing was intact.

He didn't say anything as she worked, just followed her with his keen eyes. It was a shitty situation he put her in, and he should have known better. He tried to figure out what to say, how to address the situation without making it more uncomfortable.

Natasha spoke before he had the chance to figure out the words. "Laura is really nice. I like her."

"She is," Clint replied carefully. "I like her too."

An amused snort from his partner. "I would hope so." Their eyes met and tried to communicate all the mixed emotions this trip was stirring up. In her deepest thoughts, she had wished Laura to be some sort of monster. Not like herself maybe, but in some other way. She didn't want to feel bad about the time she spent with Clint nor the time he spent away from home.

Cautiously he asked, "Where is she?"

Nat gave a quick shake of her head, indicating that Laura would not be joining him in this room. "Upstairs. We talked a little." Her voice was hesitant. She wasn't sure where to go with this. "She talked about how you two don't know each other. And that she felt anyone could give you a home like this." It was easier to talk about Laura's emotions rather than her own.

"She's right that we don't." He seemed guilty at the thought. "But what she's been willing to give up to have this life…not many people could do that."

"You could get to know her again. You could try starting over." Somehow in Natasha's mind, the idea formed that giving her partner the perfect home and family life, maybe that would make up for the fact that she could never have it herself.

Clint frowned slightly. He had thought of it before – but where would he start? And where would that leave his partner? "It's not as easy as that, you know." He met her eyes and they both knew she did. No matter what either of them would admit or act on, to change his relationship with his wife would mean he would have to change his relationship with his partner, and he wasn't sure he wanted to do that.

"I know." Natasha didn't let him see her eyes, hiding some of the emotion from him.

"I'm sorry, Nat." He turned away guiltily, his jaw tense.

His partner locked the door to the room - the last thing she would want is his children walking in - and went to his good side, sitting down on the bed and taking his hand. "Laura said something to me, and I'm going to tell you the same: Don't add this to your burden, or you'll only add to mine." She watched their fingers mesh with each other as they had so many times before. "You know I don't get the happy ending." Her voice was soft but she was comfortable with the fact that this was part of her penance.

"And I'm supposed to?" Clint was annoyed. "And why shouldn't you someday retire and have a family of your own? Eventually you'll move past this."

She laughed bitterly. "Because I'll never move past this. I'll never be more than this. This is who I am, who I was bred to be, what I have been created to do!" She shook her head. "You should know better, Barton. There's only one ticket for me out of this job."

He voice took on a pleading tone. "It doesn't have to be like that though. You have choices." He wasn't sure how he could function in a world where Natasha no longer existed.

"No I don't. Those choices were taken from me by the Red Room before you ever met me." She still sat beside him, but kept looking forward, away from his face, her hand tight around his. The poison that had come to the surface when she saw his children had to be expelled. "Do you know how they signify that you have completed your training and are ready to go out and serve their purposes? They strap you to a bed, tie you down," she hesitated, tears actually forming in her eyes. Clint wasn't sure he had seen her cry in years, no matter how badly she was hurt. "They couldn't do regular surgery; that might leave a scar, and they couldn't have anything mar my perfect skin." Her voice was soft, but laced with bitterness. "They were always so careful about scars."

"You don't have to tell me this," Clint said, concern on his face. He knew they had done so many horrible things to her, but she had never talked about this before. He knew she was feeling vulnerable now, and he didn't want her to share more than she would be comfortable with in the future.

She continued to speak, as if he hadn't tried to stop her. "I don't know exactly what they did, just that I was kept awake during it and it hurt, more than anything else they had done before. They wanted to make sure we could never get pregnant. That we would never entertain dreams of leaving and having a normal family. That nothing could ever be more important to us than them. That nothing would ever love us, but them. I was twelve." Tears slipped down her face. She hadn't thought about her graduation in years, but seeing the Barton family just ripped it to the surface. She felt Clint's arms go around her while she was talking and just leaned against his chest, taking the comfort he could give her.

Clint struggled while she got her story out. It made him so angry, that he wanted to yell and hit things and go chasing after the monsters who had raised her and make them pay for the damage they caused. But that wasn't the reaction Natasha needed in the moment. She just needed his presence and understanding, so he tamped down the anger. She was more important to him in the moment than his own anger. There were no words that could make what she just admitted any less horrifying, so he just murmured soft words of understanding and held her.

He realized now just how much it hurt her to see his family – not just because of Laura – but because of the children and the fact he did have a retirement to look forward to someday, all things she could never picture for herself. "I'm sorry I asked you to come with me." He was nearly close to crying himself. The hurt Clint had caused his partner was nearly unbearable to him. He hadn't considered all the ways he would be hurting her by bringing her here.

Natasha's soft voice tried to reassure him. "I'm not. Clint, I want you to have all this. I have to think someone can have it."

His own voice was low and gravelly with emotion. "I don't deserve this. What if I don't want it?" ' _What if I want you instead'_ was the unsaid continuation.

"You do deserve it, Clint. Please, believe me that you do." She met his eyes earnestly. Not only had he stopped his own mercenary ways, he had gotten her to stop as well, which was worth a lot of black in his column too, in her mind. She also knew though that he deserved better than her, and that the opportunity for a family wasn't one to be given up lightly.

"I don't see how I do, because it's not enough for me." Clint stroked her hair gently. For years he had maintained barriers between them for various reasons: Because he was married, or because he was worried about taking advantage of her. But now the limbo they had existed in was coming to an end, for better or worse.

To be honest with himself, he felt like the biggest jackass of them all, for putting any of them in this situation. He was selfish because he just was so drawn to Natasha, never mind whether it was good for her mental state or not. And ignoring the fact that no matter what the circumstances, he was technically married. He had painted himself into a corner and now he was going to destroy everything, including himself, if he wasn't careful.

On top of all that, he wasn't sure he deserved the happy ending that Natasha was envisioning for him either. He had killed more people than she had, for far less reason. She had the rationale that she had been brainwashed to be a killer. He had a shitty childhood, but so did a lot of men who sat on death row. If he was willing to give up on Laura, it would mean likely giving up on the children too. He couldn't expect her to stay hidden for him forever. He couldn't imagine losing the kids, no matter how he felt about the woman in his arms.

She kissed his temple with a sigh. "You are better than you give yourself credit for." Natasha knew his body language as fluently as she spoke English. She could see the various sources of guilt warring for dominance.

"So are you." He looked over at his partner, trying to justify in his mind what was in his heart. He wasn't sure how he could live with himself if he chose Natasha and lost his children. But he also couldn't imagine losing the bond he shared with his partner.

She knew the right thing was for him to stay with Laura and his children, but she had been forced onto so many men in her life, and the thought of losing the one man that she chose for herself was threatening to break her. She rested her forehead on his cheek for a moment. "Get some sleep."

"You too." He knew she wouldn't stay in there with him, not under the circumstances, no matter what Laura had told her.

It was a complicated web they were trapped in and for once, Natasha was unsure how to extricate herself. Usually she was laying the threads to trip others, but this had grown out of control and even she was caught.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I bet you thought I had abandoned this :) Nope. I do find this part awkward to write, but I'm going to push through it and keep going because I still have an arc in mind. I'm dealing with a breakup now and there's therapy in writing, right? Right.

Same old caveats: I own nothing, I'm not even that creative, blah blah blah. Please don't sue me.

* * *

After that first night, there was a definite shift in the relationship between the two spies, more distance. Laura noted it, but didn't comment on it. The children were unaware of the closeness between their father and his co-worker to begin with, so they noted no change.

Laura began to worry about both of them. Natasha didn't seem to be sleeping well and slipped away frequently. She also had pulled away from both her and the children during the day. Laura knew the spy was working on a project, but something seemed off.

One evening she heard soft moans coming from the room where her husband slept. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself that she didn't care if they were sleeping together, and hearing them didn't bother her.

The moans got louder and now that she was listening, they sounded like he was in pain, and not the good kind. She debated whether to knock and see if something was wrong, in the end talking herself out of it. That was until she heard Clint cry out: "No! Help!"

She rushed to the door and opened it without knocking or thinking, finding Clint crying out in his sleep with sweat coating his body. Even more surprising, he was alone. She moved to his side, calling his name to wake him from the nightmare. She laid a hand on his shoulder to wake him.

Clint's eyes suddenly were wide open with fear and his hand moved more quickly than she could imagine to grab the hand that touched him by the wrist, his grip like iron and uncomfortably tight. "Clint, it's me. Please!" Fear entered her voice as his hand tightened around her wrist painfully; for a moment she was afraid he was going to break it.

And then it was over. Clint's hand released like she was on fire, and his expression turned to immediate apology.

She withdrew her hand protectively and stood back up to get some distance from him. "Are you alright? You were yelling for help." She debated on the next question for a millisecond, but decided to continue with it. "Where's Natasha?" Laura would have expected his partner to be here for him for something like this. It definitely seemed like a 'work issue', not a 'home issue'. He had never had nightmares like this before, that she knew at least.

Clint's eyes darted around in a panic, before seeming to readjust to the reality he was in. "I'm fine. I'm so sorry, did I hurt you at all?" His wife shook her head, and waited for him to answer the last question. "She's - "

"She's right here," Natasha said dryly. Clint realized from the look on her face that she had been monitoring him and had likely come in to protect Laura. He was grateful beyond measure.

Laura turned around, surprised. "When did you come in? I didn't hear you."

"It's a gift." Natasha smirked a little, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Clint has threatened to tie a bell on me."

Some of the tension left Laura's posture with the easy humor of Natasha. "He can be pretty quiet himself."

A soft laugh. "You have no idea. I never thought someone would ever be able to sneak up on me, but he does." Now Natasha's eyes slid over to Clint, concern and frustration warring with each other.

"So, what have you been up to, Auntie Nat?" Clint tried to deflect to safer topics.

Natasha gave an apologetic look to Laura. "Would you excuse us for just five minutes, I need to speak with him about something work-related." Laura nodded despite being curious, and left.

"Thank you." Clint finally could thank her for being willing to protect Laura. He felt terribly guilty, he had managed to keep nightmares at bay usually when he was home and worked hard to suppress his PTSD reactions.

She nodded in acknowledgement. "What if it happened and I wasn't here?"

Clint's jaw tightened defensively. "It's never happened before. I was coming out of it before I hurt her." Natasha didn't speak, just gave him the dead-eyed look that she did so well. "Really, usually when I'm here, I'm 'Home Clint', and I don't have to deal with it."

"That's just you playing a character, just like we're ok when undercover or on a mission." She moved to sit at the foot of the bed and gave him a long look. "I've been talking to Fury. Laura is to be read in."

"What?" Clint was baffled at the turn in conversation.

"It is long overdue, and you know it. You can't go on like this, it's not safe for either of you." Natasha knew he was afraid of Laura's reaction to what needed to be said. But she also knew that things needed to change and Laura wouldn't have a fair shot if she didn't know what she was dealing with.

"Fury authorized it?" Clint sighed in resignation. He had been a coward to not do it before. He liked that Laura didn't know that his career choice involved murder and lies.

"She'll understand. I think she guesses more than you think." Natasha had mixed feelings for her own reasons. There was a good chance that once Laura knew the truth, she and Clint might be able to work things out, and though she would never say it aloud, she died a little at that thought.

"You're right." Clint took a deep breath. This was it. There was no going back from this. But it also occurred to him that it could make things easier in the long run. Maybe she would want out and it wouldn't be on him to destroy the family he had so carelessly made.

"Of course I am. We both know deep down you are going to still try age work things out with her. It's just who you are." She paused with a sigh; that truth was hard on her. "I do have some good news." A ghost of her smile came to her lips. "Talked to medical. You're off bedrest."

A grin on his that reflected his excitement. "Really? How?"

"We lied about the length of time. I was afraid you wouldn't give it the full time it needed to stabilize and so I tacked on a couple days, just in case." She ducked as he threw a pillow at her and started to get up, before she motioned him to stay. "You still need to take it easy and I have one more dose of antibiotics for you. Talk to Laura, get it sorted, then we have a mission to finish." The dark smile that appeared was genuine, but it frightened even Clint; going after anything related to the Red Room brought out her demons.

He nodded uneasily as she put on a neutral face and left the room to get Laura.

* * *

Later, Laura entered the room where Clint was staying, closing the door behind her. "Did you guys have a fight?" Her expression was concerned.

"No." Clint shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry, Laura. I have royally fucked things up. I leave you here, trapped and isolated - "

She held up a hand to cut him off. "Stop it, Clint. If I didn't want this or want to continue with this, I would leave. You told me about Natasha. I actually feel better having met her, now. She's good for you."

"She says the same thing about you." Clint took her hand. "But I'm still sorry."

Laura tried to read between his words to figure out where he was going with his speech. "I forgive you, Clint."

"Don't say that yet. I received clearance to tell you more about me and what I do." His face was dark, knowing his past wasn't pretty.

"Alright," she said hesitantly, nervous about what he could be afraid to tell her.

"Well, you know about my dad and Barney…" he began, finally telling his wife about who he really was and what he had been doing, basically the entire time they had been together. When he finished his lengthy story, she gaped at him.

"Um. That's. …" Laura searched for words to describe how she felt, finding out her husband was a former contract killer-turned assassin and spy. "So, we moved out here because…"

"… I wanted to make sure that in my current work, no one would ever be able to find out about you. For your protection, and the kids." He hated what she might think of him now that she knew the truth.

"Why did you tell me all this?"

There were a bunch of reasons that came to his lips, but he realized they were all lies. "Because Natasha said I should. I can't continue this being somewhere where I have to lie constantly. I need to treat you like an equal.

"We've come so far, we have kids. And I haven't ever given you the chance to really know me." Clint wasn't sure how she was going to react to this confession of his. It was a long history of half-truths and concealment he had just revealed. "And I care about you, Laura."

Laura still seemed to be a mixture of stunned and puzzled. "I care about you too. But…I've never actually really known you, have I?" Standing back up, her face still a mask of consternation, she shook her head. "I'm going to need some time to think about this. Ok?"

He cleared his throat before trying to speak. "Yeah, ok." He paused, wincing internally at what he was going to stay next. "Natasha and I have a job that we need to leave for soon."

He could see on her face that she was just as upset at that proclamation as she was about his confession. It made all his words ring hollow. "I have to finish this, this actually threatens you and the kids." He tried to make her see that he wasn't just running off at the first opportunity, and he had to do it for her and the kids.

"Go. I believe you. And it will probably be better for me if I have some time alone." Laura moved back toward the door. "We'll talk more when you get back." She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

* * *

"How did it go?" They had avoided each other since their conversation, Nat only came in to give him his antibiotics, until it was time to leave. Once they were settled into the quinjet and on their way to track down the agent that was responsible for their previous failed mission, Natasha began her interrogation.

"About as well as could be expected." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "It's good I think we're going, she needs some time to think about what I told her."

"It's a good sign though that she didn't completely freak out immediately." Natasha offered him a half smile.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Great, yeah, that makes me feel better."

Natasha's hand found his wrist and squeezed it lightly. "You're doing the right thing." No matter the pain it caused her, she would try and make a happy ending for the man that saved her. And if this was the right thing for him, she would do it.

Clint nodded. It definitely seemed like the right thing. Anyone who looked at the situation would agree. He had his own doubts, but they were shameful to him and he wouldn't voice them to himself, much less anyone else. He would be the man his father never was, and the husband that he should be; he would do the 'right' thing.


End file.
